The Mud Maiden
It was like a nightmare, but I wasn’t scared. It was the sort of experience you are supposed to get from watching National Geographic nature documentaries, mixed with those vlogs of stupid thrill seekers cave diving. It was like being one with the world, but not having a name any more. I was sinking, but breathing with the ripples that would form little waves on the banks. And the water was cold as I faded from the green and brown murk into the black deep. But it was not lonely. The sun, the moon, or some spotlight faded as well; both of us losing sight of each other as the darkness divided us.
For just a second, there was no I, for I was forgotten within the mud and muck. It was heavy, a burden. Simply sinking and then being buried like a bad memory.
But it was just a dream. A strange dream, but a dream regardless. Nothing was real, despite the feeling of the wet and mud and cold. And you cannot reflect when within murky waters for the most you can see is your shadow. I could only experience it in that dream, and I couldn't really remember it once I woke up.